Goldie Treasure

My mother never permitted me anything sweet as a child. I mean, not even a graham cracker until I was almost five. Yes, I joke too that I have spent ages 5-33 making up for lost time. Heh. The forbidden fruit was provided secretly and lovingly by one Goldie Sweat. I think have written before of the empowering and naughty feeling of hiding on my closet floor to consume bird peck sized bites of a Reese's peanut butter cup and m siplets from a tall cold glass of fresh sugar water (shuggah wahw-tah). If I trace my addiction back as far as I can, it goes to my closet floor. In fact, those are literally some of my earliest memories. My face still feels warm and the world is light when I revisit those moments. Sugar water, for those of you who did not have a Goldie in your lives, is water with a bunch of sugar stirred in, iced simple syrup - but not too thick. Divine. When I saw the bees in my grandparents' neighbors' yard hard at work in their hives, I imagined that the pollen they collected surely must taste the same. And so it was no wonder they collected it so diligently and tirelessly.

Goldie will be 77 next week. She lives in Winston Salem and I had not seen her since I was about 5 or 6 years old. What a joy. What a treasure! We stopped to see her on the long drive to my cousin's wedding in Beaufort, NC last weekend. She was the same. Happily, some things never change. :) Although... she used to carry a chicken foot in her purse for protection but no longer does. Now she has a turkey foot. Shellac doesn't actually make everything look so good...